


Kryptonite

by Llama



Series: Transactions [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Llama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has his own 'superpower', but sometimes he forgets the implications of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kryptonite

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-slash so far, though the second fic heads into more obviously sexual territory. Canon ages, so it is marked as underage.

Stiles likes to know things. Scott's always said it's his superpower, along with his ability to research something within an inch of its life, and he says it even more now Stiles might have a reason to feel like he's the useless sidekick. 

It's a superpower that's not a lot of help when you're being roughed up by a couple of hunters. Not the brightest specimens Stiles has ever encountered, given the time it took them to work out he was human, but they had enough brawn to make up for it.

Apparently it's Stiles's own fault, if the way Derek shoves him into the wall and growls a lecture at him is any indication. The accompanying scowl is at least a seven on the 'oh shit' scale, which is just wrong, because there's no way Stiles deserves anything more than a five at most for this. It's not as if anyone's even bleeding.

“Thanks, Derek,” Stiles says, pushing him away. “That's just what my bruises needed, bruises of their own.” 

Derek grimaces, and drops his hands. “I can help with--”

And no, there's no way Derek gets to make it all better. Fucking werewolves. “Don't do me any favors.”

“I'll take you home, Stiles,” Peter says, and Stiles is just pissed enough to hand his keys over as soon as he sees the look on Derek's face. Yeah, Derek can just try telling him what to do after that little performance.

“She grinds in--” he starts, but Peter is already smiling.

“I remember,” is all he says, but from the chuckle he gives as he starts up the jeep, Stiles is pretty sure Derek had some choice comments for his uncle's ears only.

“So, I've been thinking,” Peter says, and Stiles thinks for a moment that _Peter_ is about to offer him some pain relief now, which would be weirder than taking it from Derek. 

“How would you like to have the laptop for a while?” Peter says instead. “You know, the one with all the--”

Oh, Stiles knows. Peter has no idea how much Stiles wants, covets that laptop, the information it holds. Peter guards it jealously, even though most of it is useless without someone to translate it from the dozens of mostly archaic languages the documents contain.

“You--” Stiles starts, his body jerking upright against the seatbelt in surprise. _Ow._ For once he can't find many words. “Really?”

“Really,” Peter says, and Stiles can see a gleam of teeth in the stripe of street lights that flashes across the jeep. “As long as we can come to some sort of deal, of course.”

Stiles flops back against the seat. “Of course,” he echoes, but there's little to no chance Peter is going to demand anything he's willing to give. 

“Now, don't make assumptions,” Peter says, almost as if he's truly wounded. “I just thought you could... owe me a favor or two.”

“I won't spy on Scott, or help you become an alpha again,” Stiles says, because those are the first things that come to mind. “I won't, um, I won't kill or maim anyone for you unless it's something I'd do anyway, and god help me I won't spy on Derek either.”

Peter waves that away. “I can do any of those things myself if I want to,” he says, and then adds in an exaggerated tone, “Which I don't, by the way.”

“So... what _do_ you want?” 

Peter shrugs. "Nothing that would cause you permanent damage.”

“But there could be _temporary_ damage?” Stiles isn't proud of the way his voice squeaks on that. 

“Humans are fragile,” Peter says, unconcerned. “I'm not going to make any promises I can't keep, Stiles.”

Which is more reassuring than maybe it should be, especially when Peter swerves the jeep into a side street, empty and almost dark.

“Perhaps an example is in order,” Peter says, and he pulls out a small flash drive. “I translated a few files the other day that might answer some of those questions you've had about Alphas.”

Salivating would be bad, Stiles thinks, as would trying to snatch it out of Peter's grip, so he sits on his hands and tries to play it cool. From the amused quirk of Peter's eyebrow, he doesn't quite pull it off.

“I'm guessing you have a favor in mind already?” Stiles says. “I hope it doesn't need me to do anything energetic, because I'm pretty much beat. In every sense of the word.”

That gets him a flash of gold in the dark, and-- what the hell, Peter is reaching over and pulling Stiles's shirt open. Stiles knows his throat is coming up bruises already; anything like that always shows fast on him, and he can feel where every blow fell.

“Dude,” Stiles swallows, his heart jittering in his chest. “I really don't think--”

“I like the way your mind works,” Peter says, amused, “but no. Can I touch them?”

Stiles blinks. “The bruises?”

“Mmmm.” Peter waits while Stiles unbuttons his shirt, fingers awkward and fumbling, and after a moment's hesitation, pulls up his t-shirt.

It's weird, sitting there in the darkened jeep with so much skin on display; weirder still with Peter examining the marks close enough for Stiles to feel breath across his ribs. It's not painless when Peter touches fingertips to the bruises, matches finger for finger, fist for fist, but he's gentle, hands cool enough to make Stiles gasp sharply when they touch his bruised and battered flesh.

It's worth a little weirdness when he's home safely, slotting the drive into his computer. Stiles flicks through the pages, exhaustion and hurt deferred for a few more hours, because Peter might be weird and a little creepy still, but he came up with the goods. 

Stiles knows he's going to take Peter's deal, and he knows that Peter probably knows it too.

It's not until he finally falls into bed that it occurs to Stiles just how badly he fails at being a nerd. He should have known better. And Scott should have known better, what with the whole wolfsbane deal.

Where there's a superpower, there's always a kryptonite to match it.


End file.
